Broken Souls: An absolutely addictive mystery thriller with a brilliant twist (Detective Lottie Parker Book 7)

by Patricia Gibney

  She scanned over a list of his cases in the criminal court. Gangland crime was on the rise, evidenced by the trials heard there. Dublin was a mess, and in a perverse way she was content enough to be based in Ragmullin for a few months. Living in a hotel suite wasn’t all that bad, and from time to time she had an apartment to visit.

  ‘Are you coming to bed?’

  She turned her head and smiled. ‘Not until you tell me why Colin Kavanagh, solicitor extraordinaire, was at the station tonight.’

  He moved from the room, white boxers accentuating his well-toned abs. She felt a stirring in her abdomen, or maybe it was just the wine reaching her bladder too quickly. Either way, she had to agree he was a handsome man, and idly she wondered why Lottie Parker hadn’t swooped on him.

  ‘Kavanagh?’ he said, moving to stand behind her. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘I thought you were a cop?’

  ‘I am.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps he was looking for an update on his daughter’s disappearance.’

  ‘I’m sure he knows how to use a phone,’ she said, and smirked as his fingers traced a line on her collarbone, his face coming close to her ear as he sought out the lobe.

  ‘Why are you researching him online?’

  ‘I’ve got an itchy nose.’

  ‘Want me to scratch it for you?’

  ‘I’m quite capable of doing that myself, thank you.’ She twisted on the sofa and patted the seat beside her. ‘Tell me something.’

  ‘If I can.’ He sat, throwing his leg over hers, allowing her to run a hand along the inside of his thigh. She squirmed with growing pleasure.

  ‘Tell me about Kavanagh,’ she said.

  He removed her hand from his leg. ‘I know nothing about him.’

  ‘At one time he was the best criminal defence lawyer in Dublin, the focus of the Drugs and Organised Crime unit. I’m sure you know about that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know what happened?’

  ‘I’m tired.’ He stood. ‘Are you coming to bed, or what?’

  ‘Or what,’ she laughed. ‘In a minute.’

  ‘Cynthia?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Forget about Colin Kavanagh. There’s no story there. Come to bed.’

  He went into the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. He was wrong; she was certain there was a story there. She just had to find a way to uncover it.

  The latest doll he’d constructed worried him. It didn’t look right. He’d checked the stoop outside, but there had been no more hair left for him. Pity.

  He opened a drawer and took out the horsehair. He snipped off enough to redo the doll’s head. Then he picked up a strip of white material and cut it into the outline of a miniature dress. He hoped this would turn out better. He ran his hand through his own hair and thought about trimming some off, but abandoned that idea. He’d make do with what he had. He bent over the table and got to work.

  Lily cried into the rough pillow. She really wanted her mummy. Her tummy hurt. Her head hurt and she missed her teddies.

  ‘Mummy?’ she cried. ‘Where are you?’

  She lifted her head from the pillow. She could hear footsteps overhead. Maybe she shouldn’t have shouted out. Maybe the man would come down and slap her for making noise. No, she would have to be quiet.

  Sticking her thumb in her mouth like she used to do when she was smaller, Lily twiddled her long hair around her other hand, and eventually, she fell asleep.

  *

  He needed the hair. Beautiful long black hair.

  He closed his eyes and heard the imaginary sound of the snip of scissors. Felt the cuts to his scalp. The memories would never fade. As he grew older, the images grew clearer, the need more insistent.

  Opening his eyes, he fingered the steel scissors in his pocket.

  First, though, he wanted to play a little.

  What was life without some play?

  Dull.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Saturday

  It was dark. Beth’s head hurt like she had the worst hangover ever. She could feel her hair matted to her face and was conscious that her body was dripping with sweat, while at the same time she was shivering, her teeth clattering with the cold.

  Where was she?

  She tried to retrace her movements in her throbbing brain. Tried to put a hand to the area where the most pain reverberated and found she was unable to move.

  What the hell …? But there was no echo of her words. They stayed inside her head, because her mouth was bound. Tightly. Her hands and feet also. Tied so firmly the blood was unable to flow through her veins, her limbs numb.

  She kept her eyes wide open, trying to figure out where she was. A chink of light glinted from one wall. A window? She had no way of knowing.

  She sniffed above the gag that was wrapped around her mouth, keeping her words silent in her throat. What could she smell? Varnish. And something else. Sweat. It was so acrid, it had to be male perspiration. She was aware of her own body odour. This was different. Someone else’s.

  Twisting her head to one side, she felt the cold timber beneath her cheek. Her eyelids drooped, and she had no power to stop sleep invading her sentience. Though she could not see, she was aware that everything blurred, her focus shifting to a deeper darkness.

  He couldn’t do this much longer. He had no idea how to care for a child. She continued to whimper like a sick puppy.

  He took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen.

  ‘What would you like?’

  ‘My mummy.’

  ‘To eat. What would you like to eat?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Eggs?’ He took a carton out of the cupboard. ‘Scrambled. Kids love scrambled eggs.’

  ‘I want my mummy.’ Lily folded her arms on the table and laid her head upon them. Her little shoulders heaved up and down.

  She was crying again.

  Maybe it was time to get rid of her.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  ‘Oh my God,’ Lottie said.

  The morning light was way too bright when she opened her eyes. She shielded them with the back of her arm, almost stubbing herself with her elbow. She hadn’t drawn the curtains last night. Shit. Turning over in the bed, she saw she was fully dressed, an empty bottle on the pillow beside her and everything in the room swimming.

  Her stomach lurched and gurgled, empty except for wine. She needed to pee, but the throb in her head prevented her from moving.

  It was all Boyd’s fault, though she knew she was the only one to blame. There was no way she could face going into work in this state. She’d have to get Boyd or Kirby to cover for her for a few hours. It was Saturday, so it wasn’t too bad.

  But it was. She had three murders to investigate, and even more importantly, an eight-year-old girl was still missing. The little girl with the long fair hair and those disconcerting blue eyes. Why were they familiar?

  Her head continued to throb, and she shoved the bottle under the pillow. What you don’t see and all that. But the evidence was as vivid as the light streaming in her window.

  The shower. She had to drag herself under water. It was the only way to quell the dull ache rooted behind her eyes.

  There was no way she could let anyone know. But Boyd? He’d know. He always knew. Then again, did he even care any more? The ache moved in an instant from her head to her heart, and she yearned for him to soothe her pain. She needed Boyd. She needed him a lot more than he needed her. And she wondered if she still had time to convince him.

  She struggled through her shower and got dressed, feeling a little better. A few mugs of coffee might finish the job and she’d be fit for the office. Louis’ shrieks of laughter echoed from Katie’s room next to hers.

  She listened to the sound of her family bringing the house to life.

  The soft pat of footsteps on the stairs.

  Chloe yelling, ‘Cereal for all? Last one in the kitchen washes the dishes.’

  Sean
’s door opening. ‘You know it’s Saturday, don’t you! Keep the racket down.’ The door closing again. He was so like his dad.

  More laughter as Katie left her room. ‘Piggyback, Louis?’

  ‘Yeah, Mama. Wheee …’

  Lottie smiled, filled with warm love for each and every one of them. She wanted to hug them; tell them she would protect them for ever and a day. But she’d let them down so many times in the past, they probably wouldn’t believe her. And she was about to lose Katie, Louis and Chloe for the whole of Christmas. Biting her lip, she stifled a wayward sob. No, there was no room in her heart for self-pity, not after last night.

  She yawned away her lethargy and squared her shoulders, found a hoodie on the end of the bed and pulled it on, then went downstairs to see her family.

  The chaos of the kitchen made her head spin again.

  ‘We’ve started packing, but it’s virtually impossible with Louis,’ Katie said. ‘Could you take him for half an hour, Mam?’

  Lottie groaned inwardly, trying not to let it show on her face. ‘What about asking your granny?’

  ‘She’s gone to Dublin with Leo for an urgent meeting with a solicitor.’

  ‘Really? Wonder what that’s about?’ On a Saturday too, she thought. Must be something to do with the old house, though she wondered why Rose was involved. Looking at Katie’s harried face, she said, ‘I could do with a quick walk before work. Where’s his coat?’

  ‘Work?’ Chloe said. ‘It’s Saturday!’

  ‘You know how busy I am at the moment,’ Lottie pointed out. ‘Three murders and a missing child.’ She felt her body shiver at the thought that Lily had not been found. It was looking ominous for the little girl.

  ‘Right,’ Chloe said, swishing her long hair over her shoulder as she pulled laundry out of the dryer.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Mam,’ Katie said. ‘I’ll ask Sean to watch Louis.’

  ‘I want to bring him.’ Lottie turned to Louis, who was sitting on the floor hammering a saucepan with a spoon. ‘Now, little man, let’s get you ready for a walk.’

  She muffled her grandson into his snow suit and strapped him into his stroller.

  ‘Make sure you mind him,’ Katie said.

  ‘I will. Didn’t I look after you three when you were little?’

  Katie stuck a finger on her chin in mock shock. ‘You had Dad to help you.’

  Lottie flinched. ‘We’ll be fine, won’t we, munchkin?’

  ‘Nana. Nana,’ Louis said, a big smile lighting up his face.

  ‘See,’ Lottie said. ‘He trusts me.’ She thought of Lily. Had the child trusted the wrong person?

  ‘Just be careful,’ Katie said.

  Once outside, Lottie walked briskly, feeling the cold air chafe her face. Louis oohed and aahed the whole way to town. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. The murder investigations and Lily’s disappearance were weighing heavily on her mind, but with each step her brain felt a little lighter.

  The shopping centre was busy with early-morning shoppers, so she headed up Main Street and turned onto Gaol Street. The Christmas market was laid out on both sides of the narrow street, and families crowded around the stalls, in some places three deep. Manoeuvring the stroller from the footpath, she tried to wheel her grandson down the centre of the road.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, as the wheels clipped the ankles of a sour-looking woman. ‘Come on, Louis, let’s get you a present.’

  Chocolate and marshmallow scents wafted towards her, along with the aroma of freshly baked bread. Hand-crafted decorations sparkled and bells rang out in the soft breeze. Her heart felt a little warmer. Since Adam had died, she’d hated Christmas. But here, with her grandson, she sensed the return of a little happiness. Then she remembered that Katie was taking him away from her next week, and her spirits dipped.

  ‘Bell. Bell!’ Louis gesticulated with his knitted gloves, a gift from his Great-Granny Rose.

  She pulled up beside the stall, unbuckled the child and lifted him into her arms. ‘Which one do you like, Louis?’

  He pointed to a bright red ceramic bell covered with white snowflakes.

  ‘Hand-painted,’ the stallholder said.

  ‘I’ll take it, Jean,’ Lottie said, reading the woman’s name tag and cuddling Louis tightly. ‘It will be lovely on the tree.’

  ‘He’s a gorgeous little boy. Is he your son?’

  Lottie laughed. ‘My grandson.’

  ‘He’s a cutie. Going to break a few hearts. Aren’t you, pet?’ Jean wrapped the bell in bubble wrap and slid it into a cardboard box. ‘Three euros, please.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Lottie handed over the coins.

  ‘Just a minute.’ Jean stooped under the bench and brought up a chocolate Santa on a stick. ‘My friend Liv makes the most delicious chocolate sweets. You should check out her stall.’

  ‘Great.’ Lottie handed Louis the treat before strapping him back into his buggy. He was going to make a right mess, but he was happy and that was all that mattered.

  Meandering through the masses, she was mindful of what this scene would have been like when Lily Heffernan went missing from her dance school. The street would have been more crowded than it was this morning, the sky would have been dark and the theatre at the end of the street, with its massive Christmas tree, would have been lit up. If Lily had walked down the theatre steps, she would have been immediately swallowed up by the crowd. As people bustled up against the stroller, Lottie was aware of how easily a child could get lost. Was that what had happened? If so, where was Lily now? No, she was certain the girl had been abducted.

  Stopping outside Cafferty’s Pub, she noticed a closed-up stall. Glancing down at Louis, she saw his smeared face beaming up at her. She couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘I see he likes my Santa.’ It was the woman selling chocolate.

  ‘Yes, he does,’ Lottie said. ‘Can I have half a dozen, please?’

  ‘Sure you can. Do you want them in a box or a paper bag?’

  ‘Paper bag is fine.’ Lottie glanced around and saw that every stall was a hive of activity, except for the one opposite Liv’s. The shutter was pulled down and bolted. There were no boxes underneath. Deserted and cleared out.

  ‘Liv, can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Fire ahead.’

  ‘How long has that stall been closed?’

  ‘Let me think.’ Liv scrunched her eyes. ‘I’m sure it’s been open most days.’

  ‘Was it open yesterday?’

  ‘Now that you mention it, I don’t think it was. I think it closed down on Wednesday.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Would it have been, say, sometime after four o’clock?’

  Liv leaned her head to one side and then shook it. ‘I can’t be sure. The gardaí were asking questions. About that little girl who went missing.’ She inclined her head towards the theatre.

  ‘Who was working on the stall?’

  Liv shrugged. ‘Don’t think he was local. I’d never seen him on the craft trail before.’

  ‘What was he selling?’

  ‘Now you’re asking.’ Liv grimaced.

  ‘Take your time.’ Lottie checked Louis. His face was a mess of chocolate, but he was laughing and shaking the box containing the little bell.

  ‘Dolls. That’s what it was. Awful-looking things. I saw something like them one time on holiday. Like voodoo dolls. They were hanging all around his stall. Some on key rings. That’s how small they were.’

  ‘And the man … You said it was a man, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What did he look like? Did you speak with him? Did you witness anyone else conversing with him?’

  ‘Are you a guard?’ Liv looked around warily.

  ‘Detective Inspector Lottie Parker.’

  ‘I’ve heard of you. Give me a minute.’

  Lottie waited while Liv served another customer. When she turned back, she
said, ‘From what I could see, he was weathered-looking. Tanned. Like he’d spent a lot of time in the sun or wind.’

  ‘Young or old?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I think he had a hat pulled down over his face and maybe a scarf round his mouth. It’s been so cold all week.’

  ‘Could you give a fuller description? If pushed?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Liv’s brown eyes flashed with flecks of hazel, reminding Lottie of Boyd. ‘It’s been frantic here since the market launched. I’m surprised I remember anything about him at all. If it wasn’t for the weird dolls, I don’t think I’d have noticed him.’

  ‘And I suppose you didn’t see the little girl? Lily Heffernan.’

  ‘No. A guard showed me her photograph, but I didn’t recall her. It was pulsing with crowds the day the market opened. Today is going to be even better.’

  As Liv went to serve another customer, Lottie noticed that a queue had formed. She released the brake on the stroller and pushed through to the end of the street. The theatre stood across the road, banners outside proclaiming next week’s Christmas dance show. Cinderella.

  She turned back towards Cafferty’s, thinking that she really needed to get Louis home and get into work. She had to check if there was any word on Lily’s biological father, but first, maybe the barman might know something about the mysterious stallholder.

  For a Saturday morning, the bar was full, which surprised Lottie. She spotted Kirby sitting at the counter with a newspaper in his hand and a gigantic toasted sandwich in front of him.

  ‘That smells nice,’ she said.

  ‘Morning, boss. What brings you here?’ He swirled his large backside on the stool. ‘Hello, little man. Your granny’s starting you young in the pubs, isn’t she?’